


Flightless

by storiesfortravellers



Category: White Collar
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Neal and El friendship, Wing Kink, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-19
Updated: 2012-08-19
Packaged: 2017-11-12 11:08:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/490208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesfortravellers/pseuds/storiesfortravellers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elizabeth wingfic, in which Neal finds out her secret. P/N and P/E with El-Neal friendship.  Originally published on lj for a prompt from CS.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flightless

It's their shadow that makes him look, a flutter of darkening ribbons of shadow that sweeps out into the hallway from the bedroom, and there is something so strange, so _other_ , about it that Neal hesitated before looking, wishing, for once, that he had the sense to let curiosity kill some other cat.

He peered in through the bedroom door, crouching low in hopes that he wouldn't be seen, but it didn't matter since Neal gasped as soon as he saw them.

Wings. Enormous, lush, wings extending from Elizabeth's back, filling half the room, with feathers larger than a swan's, but deep mottled gray, with scattered flecks of green in all different shades, and the occasional feather in bright metallic gold. Neal gasped at its beauty, it mosaic of color and texture and motion, but he also gasped at its oddity, its incomprehensibility, as El stood there, shaking out her wings in fluttering pulses, her face as calm as if she were stretching out her legs after a long time sitting.

When she heard his gasp, she looked over, eyes flashing in warning, but when she saw it was Neal, she smiled.

And then she winked.

Neal, startled by it, backed away into the hallway and ran downstairs. He felt ashamed somehow, as if he had accidentally spied her naked. But then she walked down the stairs too, pleasantly resuming the dinner conversation with Peter and Mozzie and June.

All evening, Neal tried not to stare at her. She acted as if nothing was wrong, until it was time for coffee and dessert, and she asked Neal to help her bring it in.

In the kitchen, he asked the first thing on his mind: "Does Peter know?"

Her smile weakened for half a moment as she answered. "No."

Neal wanted to ask her who she was - what she was - but he couldn't. Somehow, even seeing the impossible couldn't make Neal ask something like that of the woman (or being) who had accepted him as he was, who had welcomed her into a home he should have had no place in.

So he asked, "Did you give up being... someone else... for Peter?"

She smiled again, and this time it was different; it wasn't to offer reassurance or understanding, it was to accept it.

"I've gotten more than I gave up," she answered, her truth as clear as glass.

"You're beautiful," he said, and he hoped she knew that he wasn't just talking about the wings.

"We're not so different," she said, smile tightening into a clever smirk. "And I'm not the only one who's given up part of myself for love."

Neal let out a laugh. "I guess I have to stop whining so much about giving up art theft."

"Not at all," she said, grabbing his hand, and as he looked down at hers, he wondered why he never noticed the subtle undertones of gold in her skin. "And it will be nice to have someone who understands that even when you love someone, you can still have your secrets."

He pulled her in close, held her briefly, and thought about how heavy her wings must be, how tightly they must be bound to stop them from springing up, free and open and cool as wind. Her arms gave him a quick squeeze back before they parted, and he thought of her wings surrounding, embracing him with a soft kaleidoscope of feathers. But as she walked away, her step easy and light, to share her trays of hot milky coffee and cakes with sweet roasted figs, he wondered what it would be like to see her fly, soaring gracefully in moonlight among some ancient pines, or some castle ruins in a land that lost its language years ago. 

And then Neal thinks, in a wisp of a moment before he joins them for dessert, where he would go if he could fly, if he could soar into the night without tethers.


End file.
